


Silver Lining

by Wichi



Category: Left 4 Dead, Left 4 Dead 2
Genre: Comfort, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, L4D - Freeform, L4D2, Platonic Male/Male Relationships, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, sick, sick ellis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-24
Updated: 2015-08-24
Packaged: 2018-04-16 23:27:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,272
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4644066
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wichi/pseuds/Wichi
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellis has endured years of Nick's pessimism, but what happens when a sudden illness in the dead of winter shakes the perpetual optimist's faith? Based off an RP thread.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Silver Lining

   Wind howled outside the vacant brick building. The snow storm, which had only just begun, had already reduced visibility to zero and plummeted the outside temperature. The building itself was little more than four brick walls and a garage, its only occupant curled in the corner by a small, dying fire. That was the drawback of fires, the smoke had to have somewhere to go. That meant cracking a window in a snowstorm.  
  
    The man's back was against the wall, a rifle resting over his knees. A hawklike nose hooked below light blue eyes set in a pale face. Brown hair was cut short, sometimes slicked back when he could be bothered to care.   
  
That wasn't often.  
  
    He looked like someone who could have laughed, gotten into his share of trouble, had a good time. Before, that was. Before what they'd said was a flu wiped out the whole damn country. Before the infected turned into killing machines, bent on destroying and eating everything in their paths. Especially people.   
  
    In the earlier days, most had been to frightened or skeptical to use the term, but there was no denying it. The infected were zombies.  
  
    The man's face was drawn with worry as he glanced toward the door. When the handle suddenly turned, his rifle was instantly raised.  
  
    A younger man stumbled inside, pushing the door shut against the flurry of snow and wind as the other immediately relaxed. His relief was short-lived, however.  
  
    "You look like shit, Ellis."  
  
The younger man looked over at the other before shakily trying to shrug off his backpack and guns.  
  
    "Ah  _feel_ like shit, Nick."  
  
    Unlike Nick, Ellis was shorter, his hair a light and curly golden brown. His skin had once been sun-kissed and healthy, but now it was ashen. He was younger, practically a kid when this all started years ago. Though his voice was hoarse, the southern accent was unmistakable.   
  
    He, too, looked like he could have spent all of his previous years with a beer in hand, regaling anyone who'd listen with stories of past adventures. Now, he carried the same hard look as Nick, one that belied untold close calls and a bitter struggle for survival.   
  
    The guns and bags were set aside, along with a sharp machete. He was left in jeans and a down feather winter coat that was far too big.  
  
    "Tried huntin' earlier, bu' Ah didn' catch nothin'. Sorry, man..."  
  
Nick couldn't help but grimace. They were down to a single can of soup between the two of them.   
  
    "Ah... Heck. I guess tree bark is kind of nice to eat this time of year."   
  
    He'd hoped for a chuckle, or at least a look from Ellis, but nothing. Nick's frown deepened as the other moved closer to the fire, noticing the flush in his cheeks. It wasn't just hunger, Ellis was sick. Not with the zombie illness, they'd both proven themselves immune to that. No, he was running a fever from something else.  
  
    "Screw me." Ellis murmured softly, slipping off his tow truck hat and running a cold hand over his burning forehead. "... Goin' north was not uh good plan... Ah think we're screwed, man."  
  
    Every infected on their half of the country would have come running if they could hear the alarm bells going off in Nick's head. It was nothing he hadn't said a thousand times before, about any given situation they'd found themselves in. But Ellis... Ellis was just as optimistic as Nick was pessimistic. They balanced each other. Hell, if the kid wasn't so good at finding the sunshine in every little thing, telling him how wrong he was when his moods turned dark... he wasn't sure he would have made it this far. Not with hunger clawing his insides and zombies gnawing his outsides. A bullet in the mouth would have sounded like a fine meal indeed.  
  
So the idea of Ellis, the eternal optimist, losing faith... it terrified him. And his words came out far more forceful than he'd intended.   
  
    "Since  _when_  has this zombie combo ever been  _screwed?_ We've survived flash floods, fires, angry bikers, nevermind the  _zombies._ "   
  
Ellis managed a faint smile, and Nick let out a silent breath of relief.   
  
    "Ah know... i's thuh hunger talkin'... we got any medicine left?"  
  
Nick nodded, his suspicions confirmed.  
  
    "There should be some in the cabinet, bottom left."   
  
Shaking hands awkwardly rummaged through, gratefully circling around a bottle of fever-reducers.  
  
    "Thank thuh  _lord._ MAN, this winter is kickin' mah ass..."   
  
Nick didn't answer, setting his trusted rifle aside.  
  
    "The god damn fire's getting low. Lemme just add some logs."  
  
    Fuel was added to the pathetic fire, and Nick worked to build it to a much more impressive state that it'd been. Ellis smiled faintly at the added warmth, kicking off his shoes as he curled up on his cot, still fully clothed.   
  
    "Thanks, man... Ah think we go' some more ou' back if we need it..."  
   
Nick didn't look back, still feeding the fire.  
  
    "No problem. You need your rest, kid. Just 'cause humanity died doesn't mean the Flu did."  
  
Ellis tried to answer, but he lurched as a coughing fit seized him, ripping him up from deep inside. The coughs were as loud as they were painful, enough that both would have worried about alerting infected if it weren't the dead of winter. It was a long moment before he could speak again.  
  
    "Dammit... this ain' no time tuh git sick..."  
  
Nick had wandered to the window, peering out into the flurried darkness.  
      
    "Jesus, this storm ain't letting up. No wonder there's no animals."  
  
    "They're all hidin'." Ellis muttered, shakily pushing his cot closer to the fire, "Christ, Ah feel like hell... This is bullshit."  
  
Light blue eyes finally turned back to the southerner. Ellis would later blame the fever, but he could have sworn there was a hint of fear in his face. Or something close to it.  
  
    "We'll get food. I promise."  
  
Ellis shook his head, though he immediately regretted the action.  
      
    "Don' think Ah'd keep i' down anyhow," He admitted, running both hands over his flushed face, "Ah'd be fine if shit would stop  _spinnin'_."  
  
    "Sit down by the fire. When you're hot, use some of the ice, when you're cold, warm yourself up. It can't hurt."  
  
Ellis nodded, unscrewing the cap from his bottle and slowly drinking some water. That was one of the good parts of winter, there was always snow to boil. They never ran out of drinkable water.   
      
    "We still go' some meds, Ah'll live... Maybe then we kin ge' outta here..."  
  
Nick settled on the floor once again, back to the wall and knees drawn in. The heat of the fire had pushed him a bit to the side, but that was all. It was the best spot to keep an eye on both the fire and his sick teammate.  
  
    "Once you're healthy, we'll use the parts I found last week to repair that truck. With your experience with cars, we might make it."  
  
Ellis glanced up, his normally-animated face subdued, eyes glazed with exhaustion and the fever.  
  
    "We're outta food  _now,_  though... soon as thuh storm... lets up..." He forced himself to sit up straighter, "Ah'll start on 'er."  
  
Nick moved as if to stand himself, prepared to intervene if Ellis decided to stand.  
  
    "She's in the garage. But, honestly, you're not strong enough yet. We got plenty of water, we'll be fine for a few days."  
  
    "Ah'm fine... jus' shaky."  
  
    As if to prove his point, he tried to get up, managing to get almost entirely vertical before the world viciously swam before his eyes. Ellis slumped back against the wall, and would have slid down, were it not for the hands just below his shoulders, pinning him to the wall.  
  
    "Stay  _down,_  god dammit. Or I'll put you in a 'medically induced' coma for your own safety."  
  
Ellis smirked, though he couldn't do much more than hang there for the moment.  
  
    "You ain' uh... doctor... jus' gimme uh minute."  
  
Nick braced an arm across the Georgian's chest as a hand dug for his old wallet, fumbling awkwardly until he pulled out a fake ID.  
  
    "This says I am."   
  
Ellis was too used to such behavior to even be fazed. Nick had an ID or a paper to say he was just about anything. Part of being a con man, he guessed.  
  
    "Hah hah..." he grumbled, struggling to push Nick's arms away and step off from the wall. "See, Ah'm good... good as new..."  
  
Nick was not impressed.  
  
    "Good as fuck, you mean." He lunged with alarm as Ellis stumbled back, nearly sliding down the wall before Nick could haul him back up.   
  
    " _Jesus_  kid," he growled, guiding Ellis back to the cot, "Sit the hell down before you drop dead. If you want to help that bad, then tell me what to do."  
  
    Ellis sank reluctantly back onto the cot, shaking badly from the fever, the wasted effort and the cold. His eyes slid shut as he swiped a hand over his sweating forehead, trying to recall what exactly had been wrong with the truck.  
  
    "... Ah'd have tuh look at it again... Sorry, man."  
  
Nick expected as much, and was silently relieved. If the truck wasn't running, Ellis wouldn't be hellbent on leaving just yet.   
  
    The mechanic finally laid down, slipping off his hat and placing it carefully on the ground. He'd die before he let anything happen to that hat. It reminded him of work with Keith. Reminded him of his Ma, who always gushed at how precious the little tow truck was.   
  
    His whole life from before, boiled down to memories and a hat. But at least he still had something he could touch and feel, remind him that life was real good and could be again if they over sort out the zombies. Some people didn't have anything from before. Hell, he remembered when Rochelle got her Depeche Mode shirt torn to shit, and she cried. He held her through that, he understood. It was hard to sit down and realize the clothes on your back and the weapons in your hand belonged to people who were probably dead. All the stuff you once called yours in the place you once called home was abandoned or burned up. Without those little reminders, like his hat, or the white suit Nick kept carefully packed away, you felt like a stranger in your own skin.  
  
    "... Tomorrow... Ah'll start workin' on it. Ah promise."  
  
Nick nodded, not at all minding putting off that battle for another day. Maybe when the storm let up, he could scavenge while the kid was asleep. The two fell silent, listening to the wind howl outside. Nick thought the kid had finally passed out, but he spoke up again.  
  
    "...Think folks are still ou' there tryin' tuh con people? Maybe fer supplies 'n shit?"  
  
The ex-conman shrugged.  
  
    "People are too clever nowadays. You don't get this far being a dumbass. Or in your case, having a clever, sexy partner with em."  
  
Ellis rolled his eyes, curling in tighter against the cold despite the heat of the fire.  
  
    "Ah survived uh while withou' yuh... but we make uh pretty good team. Jus' gotta lick this cold..."  
  
Nick had retrieved a bottle of whisky from his bag, settling back in his spot on the floor. He was in the process of taking a sip when he coughed on the burning liquid.  
  
    "We're licking now? Jesus, you kids pick up vocabulary these days that I just cannot understand."  
  
There was a faint smirk from the cot, the mechanic's muscles finally starting to lose their tension as his body guided him toward sleep.   
  
    "Yankee."   
  
    "Hillbilly."   
  
Silence stole over the room as Ellis finally fell asleep. Nick took another sip from the bottle, relishing the warmth that worked its way down his throat.  
  
    They would be okay. Food was low, but they were used to that. They had plenty of water, so the fever wouldn't dehydrate Ellis. He was a damn good mechanic, so he'd get that truck running. All they had to do was wait a day or two for the fever to break.   
  
    "Christ," He muttered, downing more whiskey. "Now  _I'm_ the god damn optimist."  
  
It'd only taken the end of the world and the wavering resolve of a hick mechanic he'd never have spoken to in his life otherwise, but there it was. Looking on the bright side of shit. God, it felt strange.  
  
    "You're ruining me, kid." Nick muttered, taking another drink. "Couldn't let Uncle Nick die a bitter, gambling, drunk in peace."  
  
Maybe this was some twisted form of redemption for his former life, all the lives he'd financially ruined. He was now entrusted with this naive kid, who saw something positive in everything and didn't have it in him to suspect the worst in people. Exactly the type of person he used to con.   
  
His gut twisted at the thought.  
  
    "...You have to make it, Ellis."  
  
The words came unexpectedly, low spoken as firelight danced across their faces.  
  
    "The new world's gonna need ya. And If I die gettin' you there, well..." He scrubbed a hand down his face. "it's not a bad way to go. Probably amount to more good than I'd done with the rest of my life."  
  
    The fire crackled and popped beside him, the only answer he was going to get. Nick leaned his head against the wall, tipping the bottle back once more. Outside, the flurries seemed to weaken as the vicious snowstorm finally began to die.


End file.
